


Walk the Line

by MisMisto



Series: Hawke this, Hawke that [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Needs a Hug, Attempt at Humor, Bipolar Disorder, Blue-Purple Hawke, Confusing Fluff, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Mental Health Issues, The Hanged Man (Dragon Age), nothing's wrong with brown!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 17:39:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17708735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisMisto/pseuds/MisMisto
Summary: ‘I’ve almost always been like this. Ever since I was in the Circle. Some days feel faster, some feel slower. I thought in time the lines would blur but…” he was looking at her now, tears in his eyes. ‘Now I can’t tell which one is real anymore. I’m just so tired.’‘That’s okay,’ he didn’t even notice he’d moved until his face was buried into the crook of her neck and he felt his tears stain the rich red fabric into black.‘It’s okay.’Set right before Act 3. The tension between the mages and Templars is at a breaking point, and Anders isn't feeling well. Marian is there for him. Always was.





	Walk the Line

It was terribly early in the morning when the beams of the new born sun shined onto the grand Amell estate and through the narrow space between maroon curtains, right into its resident’s eyes. Hawke groaned at the intrusion and flopped onto her stomach in a lazy attempt to escape lucidity. She frowned into the pillow when she couldn’t feel the weight of her lover’s shoulder beside her, or his arm laid lazily across her waist. She brought her hand up from under the pillow and let it fall onto the empty mattress. She made a confused sound and groggily lifted her head to look up. Marian sighed. It must have been a while since Anders had gone, the warmth long gone from the sheets. Although he usually woke up a bit earlier, he would wait for her to wake, burying his face into her neck and playing languidly with her hair, for the subtle change in her breathing and the slight shuffle towards him. Except for the days when he decided to make advantage of her being _horribly_ ticklish. Then he would thinly blow air into the crook of her neck, or sneak a hand up to her waist and brush the tips of his fingers over the side of her stomach, wait for her to yelp and hope the pillow she attacks him with isn’t the frilly one that feels like a _rock._ They’d wrestle and frolic around for a bit, of course, the entire estate lighting up with their cackling and the other residents’ warm grins. Or maybe even a perfect wolf whistle and clapping if Isabela happened to be around. If they listened just slightly more carefully they would even hear Marian’s snorts that she often let out when she was laughing too hard- which happened _quite_ often around her friends. This would go on long enough until one of the combatants finally used their head, tickles slowly replaced by wet kisses, and soon enough the Amell estate would go back to its semi-awake state of peaceful silence with an unsaid truce. This was not one of those days.

It was no secret that Anders had not been his usual self lately. He’d grown solemn and reclusive, nowadays barely speaking to anyone outside of his closest circle, voice rough and tired from speaking either too loud, or too silently. The growing tension between the mages and Templars wasn’t helping either, and Marian could see that he was barely holding himself together with the ever-present bystander who would sneer and mutter under their breath to the ragged apostate, the fool, trying to make a difference.

He’d began to see shadows in the corners, both from the outside and within, threatening the life he had built for himself and everything, everyone he cared about. Even during the squad’s weekly assembly in the Hanged Man where they’d play Wicked Grace and drink and laugh the hours away, Hawke would feel him tense every once in a while, looking for the tell-tale signs of his mood spiralling. It was some time past midnight in the Hanged Man yesterday, when she glanced at his hands and saw that his grip on one side of the chair was so strong his knuckles had turned white. But soon after she pried his hand away, entwined her fingers in his and nuzzled into his shoulder, she felt his entire body tremble and the tension dissipated as quickly as it first crept in with a deep sigh. Isabela looked on at them in wonder and shook her head slowly. “I swear, Hawke, whatever magic you’re using to calm _him_ down could bloody well knock out the entire city. Would make our job a whole lot easier, believe me.”

“They’re in _love_ , Rivaini,” Varric would say matter-of-factly, leaning back. “I’m not sure batting eyelashes at cutthroats and smugglers would have the same effect.“

The pirate leaned in with her mug of ale at hand and smirked. “This is _Hawke_ we’re talking about. You never know.”

Varric’s laugh was sincere. “That’s true.”

“Wait! Is he…” Merril gasped, hands covering her grin. “Is he _sleeping_?!”

“No, I believe they’re just-…” Aveline blinked. “Is that _sound_ coming from him?”

“Judging by the way the poor girl’s shaking from laughing so hard I’d say _yes_.”

Anders suddenly jerked his head up just as it was about to fall.

“What,” he protested groggily.  “ _No,_ I’m-… _”_

“Right,” Fenris crossed his arms, “And we just happened to _imagine_ you snoring like a wild boar in pain?”

“Now that’s a _horrible_ exaggeration, my dear Fenris. I’d say it’s more like… a dog’s or… a cat’s purr.” Isabela glanced at them. “A _loud_ one.”

“Really? I think it’s more similar to the sound ravens make when you scratch their beaks.”

Isabela nearly spat out her drink. “What does that even _mean_ , kitten?”

“Well you know, they _really_ like it when you touch and gently scratch their beaks, and them letting you do that means they _really_ trust you. But I suppose it sounds more like… I don’t know, a snort or, a _fart_ than-” 

There was a tumble and the next second Hawke was on the floor, shaking from laughter so strong she couldn’t make a sound.

“Oh, dear.”

“Someone get her up for Maker’s sake. If she lays there any longer she’ll be sick.”

“Is she even breathing?!”

“Quit with your glaring, Blondie. I can see you holding it in from here, you’re not fooling anyone.”

 “I hate you. All of you. You, especially. And you. I’ll speak with _you_ when we get home.”

“Oh _, stop_ ,” Isabela hoisted Marian up to her feet and winked as she walked back to her seat. “You love it.”

“Wha-.. You _mocking_ me?! I don’t…” A kiss on the cheek. “Even know…” A kiss on the side of his jaw. “Why I’m letting _you_ …” A kiss on his neck. “Drag me into this…” And just a flash of teeth. “I… Maker’s _breath_ , Marian.” The lilting growl at the end made her look up.

“I’m sorry, were you saying something?”

He looked at her and shook his head at her _oh so innocent_ expression, and then his narrowed eyes travelled down and up to her face again. _There_ was that smile. “Nevermind. _Minx_.”

Isabela gestured towards them incredulously. “She did it again. At _least_ tell me you’re letting me come with you tonight.”

“Oh no, _please_ ,” Hawke raised her hands in mock horror. “If you join in _too_ it might just _kill_ me.

Fenris groaned.

“Alright,” Anders coughed and stood up, slipping his arm around hers. “Thanks for the drinks, Varric. I think we’ll just be leaving.”

“Agreed. There _is_ work to be done on your sleeping schedule, dear.” Marian laughed and waved.

 “Right,” Varric clapped and rubbed his hands together. “Now that the lovebirds are gone, how about a real round?”

“I heard that!” a yell from downstairs.

“You know I mean nothing by it, Hawke!”

And the night went on with all trouble forgotten.

 

 

Hawke smiled softly to the memory as she dressed, made the bed and opened the curtains wide. The sun was so bright today and the weather was so _clear_ that it hit her right in the face and she sneezed.

“Bless you, messere!”

Maker, was she _that_ loud?

“Thank you, Bodahn!”

When she was ready, she went downstairs and greeted the old dwarf and his son, asking if there was anything they needed from the markets.

“Oh, we’re adequately supplied at the moment messere Hawke, but thank you regardless. And my boy is working on the runes you requested as we speak. They’ll be ready in just a couple of hours I believe.”

“ _Enchantment_!”

“Just so.” They said in unison.

“Thanks Bodahn. Also, do you know when Anders left home? Did he tell anyone where he was going?”

“But why, he’s in the library, messere. I heard him get up about an hour ago at dawn. He doesn’t usually come downstairs this early in the morning but he seemed to be in good spirits during breakfast. He’s been in there for some time now.”

Sandal turned to her, his face covered with dust from the runes, but the emotion from his eyes was unmistakeable. “He looks sad.”

“But as you see, my boy thought that something might have been troubling him.”

Hawke nodded, more to herself than at anyone else, and looked back at Sandal, who was still looking at her with meaningful blue eyes. The boy’s sensitivity to Anders’ emotions and when they were susceptible to shifts never failed to amaze them. Perhaps he could sense the fluctuations Justice created, or perhaps he was just better at detecting subtle changes in his demeanour. With his gifts, she and Anders suspected it was both.

“Sandal. Are you sure he looked sad? Or did he look worried like last time?”

Sandal shook his head determinedly. “Sad.”  

The time period between the shifts had also gotten shorter, and they were more abrupt. Sometimes Marian would find that when he was perfectly calm one moment before she went and took a bath, only to hear the echo of his hurried footsteps as he paced back and forth in their house, repeating pieces of his manifesto he was formulating, then he would stop abruptly, and run to the library to write it all down. He wouldn’t lift his head for hours even as Marian came in periodically with a glass of water and a plate of food, looking over his shoulder wordlessly to watch him write in an almost frantic pace, but he always paused and tilted his head towards her general direction when he felt her lean in to kiss his cheek.

_“Love you.”_

_“Love you, too.”_

He always stayed up too long and she always woke up when the bed bent as he fell face first onto the bed. She would hear a soft hum of approval when she turned and ushered him closer to her.

And then there would be times when she assumed even Justice grew too tired to help his host recover from this, and Marian would find on some days that he had barely moved from where she’d last seen him.  

“Thank you Sandal. I’ll go check on him.” He smiled brightly at her.

“Thank _you_.”

 

 

She walked slowly up to the library door and knocked with the usual rhythm and waited.

“Come in.”

Anders was sitting on the topmost stone stair with a quill, a variety of books beside him, and the pages of his manifesto’s drafts were beside and in front of him, some of them crumpled up. He was slouching, his elbows against his knees, his hands formed a triangle where he rested his forehead against the point his thumbs met. He didn’t notice her at first.

“Dear?” Her voice soft and barely there as if to mimic his.

He blinked and lifted his head slightly to look up with hazy eyes, focusing in recognition. He smiled faintly.

“Hey, love.”

“Hey,” she spread the curtains upstairs, enough to let more light in but subtle enough to not startle him. He inched his head away and blinked, but she could see his gaze clearing.  “You’re up. _And_ sitting on the coldest stairs in the entire mansion.”

He sighed, burying his face further into his hands. “I couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to go outside either. Thought moving around the house, writing, would help.”

“Hm,” she gently nudged at the papers to make space, and sat beside him. “You know you can always wake me up if you want to talk about anything. I’m not exactly the deepest sleeper in Thedas either. A mabari bark or, I don’t know, a rogue _breeze_ would wake me up sooner or later, so...”

He huffed out a chuckle. “Oh don’t I know about _that_. But still, I didn’t want to worry you,” he frowned again, “I thought I’d write a little. I’m still behind where I thought I’d be a week ago. I thought I’d be able to make progress but… nothing.” He glanced at her and saw that she was _still_ listening, unimaginable warmth in her icy blue eyes. The corner of her mouth quirked in a gentle smile and she slipped her arm around his waist. He looked on at her in wonder, then turned his head. His hands were loose now.

“I thought I had something but… I couldn’t catch it. It’s not like last time I…”

“Lost track?” He hummed, straightening his back instinctively when he felt her hand trace soft circles on his back.

“You said it wasn’t like last time?”

He sighed. “Sometimes it feels like… an epiphany. The words come to me easier, I can untangle me and Justice’s thoughts and form them into something _tangible_ , it feels like the links of chains or cogs in a contraption. Everything seems sharper, faster, compared to other days when I’m not even sure what or _where_ I am anymore, it makes me feel _alive_ but sometimes it… it feels like I can’t _stop_.” He looks at her. “That _terrifies_ me.” He closed his eyes when her hand travelled up to his hair.

“Do you think Justice has anything to do with this?”

“I’ve been thinking about that myself, but no. While he might have… _enhanced_ the effects, I’ve almost always been like this. Ever since I was in the Circle. Some days feel faster, some feel slower. I thought in time the lines would blur but…” he was looking at her now, tears in his eyes. “Now I can’t tell which one is real anymore. I’m just so _tired_.”

“That’s okay,” he didn’t even notice he’d moved until his face was buried into the crook of her neck and he felt his tears stain the rich red fabric into black.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I know _exactly_ who you are. You’re the tall, mysterious healer from Ferelden with the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. You’re a _fantastic_ lover, you’re ticklish around your neck and come up with possibly the worst darkspawn jokes in all of Thedas. Your mother’s name is Catherine, the country you want to see the most is Antiva, your favourite colour is brown for some bizarre reason, you’re _horrible_ at playing the lute but have a beautiful singing voice, you say you _strongly_ dislike dogs, although you got attacked by one of your patient’s four vicious mabaris and I could hear your giggles all the way from _Hightown_. You’re Anders, the kind-hearted mage who broke his chains despite all odds, who fights for those who can’t do it on their own so they don’t have to.”

They sat together for a moment in each other’s arms, his slowing breathing against her clavicle. Then she heard him laugh softly. “What’s wrong with brown?”

“Want to take a walk with me around town? It’ll make you feel better.”

He nodded and she pulled away, her hands cupping his face and fingers easing his tears away. He shook his head.

“How… _Why_ are you doing this?”

“Anders,” she looked into his eyes, her voice a whisper. “I _adore_ you. You’re my best friend and my partner. I love you and I’ll always be with you. And I _will_ repeat this until you absolutely, _truly_ believe it, because it’s true.”

The ghost of a smirk played on his lips. “Let’s say I _do_ believe you. What then?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I’d stop even then. Got me there,” she pulled him closer so their foreheads touched. “Do you?”

He closed his eyes. “No.”

She tilted his head up with her forehead, kissed his nose and then his lips. She felt him shudder and smile into the kiss. When she pulled away she saw that his eyes were still closed.

“I don’t suppose you’ll mind my efforts to try and conv- _mphhf_ “ he pulled her onto his lap and swallowed her words with a kiss _just_ like the one in his clinic which made them both forget where and who they were. Sometimes that’s all they needed. When they separated, Marian moved the wild blond hair away from his face and smoothed it out, all the while being smothered by kisses until she was squirming. _There_ was that smile again.

“You’re _incorrigible_.” She managed as she laughed.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Also,” she gave him one more kiss on the lips and stood. “The weather looks so nice it’s _suspicious_. Might as well drop by the Keep to see Aveline while we’re at it.”

Anders’ laugh brought warmth to her cheeks. “Five minutes?”

Hawke nodded, kissed the top of his head and headed for the door. Before she closed the door she thought he could hear him yell behind her.

“ _Wait, what’s wrong with brown?!”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> [This is what I had in mind with the raven bit, by the way.!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kg42Lp-Wd64) Hope you enjoyed this bit of scribbles! See you next time!


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